


this is you, baby, this is me

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, instead he came home and got hammered on a really fucking good bottle of scotch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is you, baby, this is me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, brooklinegirl! You are a ROCK STAR, and a wicked fucking classy lady. And it's your day! I hope it's fantastic, my friend, I truly do. And now, without further ado, your bday fic. I hope you like!
> 
> Thank you a million times to strangecobwebs for the beta, for reading this not once, but twice and helping me work out some spots, but also for being RL support for me over the last couple of days. You, my dear, are AWESOME.

Ray leaned forward and picked up the bottle from the coffee table, pouring the amber liquid into the glass. God, he had no idea exactly how long he’d been sitting there or exactly how much he’d had to drink, but he thought he remembered the bottle being almost full when he took it out of the cabinet, and it was about half full now. Huh.

He moved his hand from the bottle to the glass, fingering it slowly. It was one from a set that he and Stella had gotten as a wedding present, from one of Stella’s parents’ hoity-toity rich friends. It was way too nice for Stella to leave behind when she left. Stella had taken the rest of the set, along with everything else they’d had together, especially the things that were worth something. Ray could remember the day Stella finally packed up her things. She’d been wrapping the glasses and the decanter when this glass slipped out of her hand onto the counter, chipping the corner. That was the point when Ray left the apartment, shutting the door and walking down to the street to smoke and pretend he wasn’t crying. Stella passed him on her way out, box in hand, looking at Ray with her lips set in a grim line. Ray couldn’t even look at her, he was so sure he’d freak out and run after her, beg her to stay, God, _please_ stay, Stella. But even a stubborn fuck like him knew that it was over, and knew that she wasn’t coming back this time. When he got back up the apartment, the chipped glass was sitting on the counter, and every other trace of Stella was gone.

Ray picked up the glass from the table, and downed the scotch. It didn’t burn very much anymore, went down smooth now. He could see the edges of everything blurring, just a bit, just enough. He put the glass back down and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes, the room spinning.

This had been one world-class, fucking shitty day. Ray had picked Fraser up at the Consulate around lunchtime, and when they were leaving the building, Fraser moved aside so Ray could get through the door, and then put his hand on the small of Ray’s back. Before he could even stop himself, he jerked his head around to stare at Fraser, and Fraser pulled his hand back like Ray had some kind of disease or something. Fraser turned about a hundred different shades of red and looked away, hurrying toward the car. Way to go, Kowalski. He hadn’t meant to make Fraser feel bad, he’d reacted before he had a chance to think about what he was doing, and now Fraser thought that he hadn’t liked that hand on him. Fraser stayed away from him for the rest of the afternoon, making Ray notice just how close Fraser normally was, and how much he liked Fraser there. It put him in a really great mood, snapping at Frannie over the coffee in the break room and making her cry and run out of the room. Which only served to make him feel like a complete asshole, because it wasn’t _her_ fault he was in love with his best friend and partner.

Then, just to make the day even worse, he’d gone on a spectacularly awful date with a really nice and really gorgeous chick named Sarah. It’d started off okay, Ray picking her up at her apartment in the GTO. She came out, looking phenomenal in a little black dress and heels, her dark hair around her face, and gasped at the car, and Ray grinned, thinking this must be fate or something, a date with a beautiful woman who liked the GTO.

Dinner, on the other hand, was a total nightmare. Ray took Sarah to Albert’s, a place that he used to go to with Stell, which was his first stupid mistake, because all he could think about were all the times they’d been there right before it was over for good. And then he spent most of the night asking Sarah to repeat herself, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Fraser’s wide, hot palm on his back. He could still feel it there, through the dress shirt he was wearing, and he couldn’t focus on a damn thing Sarah was saying.

He didn’t even try to make a move, which was pretty pathetic, just drove Sarah home in the silent car and dropped her off at her apartment with a light kiss to her cheek. She stepped out of the car, closing the door lightly, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, and Ray thought that there was no way on earth she was going to call again, and he honestly didn’t think he cared that much. So, instead he came home and got hammered on a really fucking good bottle of scotch.

Every shot he'd taken just made him think about his stupid, pathetic life even more, when he’d hoped it would help him forget. For so long, Stella was _it_, everything, and it broke his heart when she left. He’d thought, that day when he put the chipped glass back up in the kitchen cabinet, that he was done. Done with trying to be something, anything, for somebody else, and losing everything in the process. He’d realized that afternoon at the Consulate that while Stella wasn’t his everything anymore, Fraser kind of was, and that was scaring the shit out of him, because he wasn’t sure if he could do it again, give himself to somebody.

He reached for the bottle one more time. _Last one, Kowalski. You’re done_, he thought, tilting it.

A loud, steady knock on the door made him jump and spill scotch on the coffee table and all over the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ray muttered, scrambling on unsteady legs into the kitchen to grab a towel, throwing it in the general direction of the table. He was way drunker than he thought, and made his way to the front door in a rather embarrassing amount of time. He threw the door open and found Fraser standing there, hand up, in a flannel shirt, jeans, hiking boots, and leather jacket. He had to swallow hard to keep from making an embarrassing noise, because Fraser looked like a fucking backwoods wet dream.

“Oh, hello, Ray,” Fraser said, plastering on a smile that Ray could see right through. Jesus.

Ray looked at him and walked carefully away from the door toward the living room, calling over his shoulder, “Are you coming in or what?”

Fraser obediently followed Ray, shutting and locking the door behind him, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the front closet. Ray slumped back down on the couch, ignoring the puddle of scotch in front of him, and raised the glass again to his mouth.

Fraser was standing near the couch, hands behind his back. Ray looked up at him, straight in the eye, and downed the last of the scotch, not even a full shot this time after all that he’d poured on the table, daring Fraser to say something.

“Ray,” Fraser said, the disapproval coming through, and Ray could tell Fraser had surprised even himself by not being able to hold back on that one.

“Don’t even fucking say it, Fraser, okay? You are not my mother. Got it?” Ray said, still looking at Fraser, slamming the glass down hard and making the table shake. He half hoped he’d broken the damn glass, because that would really just be perfect. Perfect end to the perfect fucking day.

Fraser just stood there, staring at Ray, not saying anything. A speechless Fraser when there was so much he could go off about right now was truly weird and a little scary. He looked up at Fraser and sighed heavily, planting his feet far apart on the floor.

“Sit down, okay? It’s killing my neck to look up at you like that.” Ray patted the couch next to him and watched Fraser relax, just a little, then unclasp his hands and move toward the couch. He sat down, where Ray’s hand had been, and, to Ray’s surprise, he leaned back, no upright Canadian posture. Fraser turned his head to look at Ray, his blue eyes piercing right into him, into all the places he was trying to keep closed.

“Ray, are you okay? You seem rather…well, inebriated, and you were acting strangely at the station earlier today,” Fraser said, folding his hands on his lap. Ray turned toward Fraser, putting his left knee up on the couch.

“I’m good, Frase, my day just kind of sucked. My night sucked. The only thing that hasn’t sucked today is this bottle of scotch,” he said, gesturing somewhere in the general vicinity of the bottle, or where he thought it was anyway.

Fraser didn’t say anything, just turned his body a bit toward Ray’s and reached his arm out, his hand coming to rest on Ray’s bicep. Ray felt his whole body freeze up, then melt slowly into Fraser’s hand, and the edges of Fraser’s face, which was really close now, were just a little blurred.

Before Fraser could have second thoughts, or before he did something (else) monumentally stupid, Ray put his hand on top of Fraser’s on his arm, twining his fingers with Fraser’s. He didn’t want Fraser to move, he didn’t want this to go away, and he knew if he gave Fraser the chance, he’d just talk himself out of it and be out the door before Ray could get his stupid drunk mouth open to say something. Fraser just stared at Ray, blinking, until Ray felt Fraser squeeze his hand, just a little.

“Can I ask you a question, Fraser?” he said, slowly pronouncing each word. God, he was more shit-faced than he thought.

Fraser swallowed so hard that Ray could see his throat working, and said, “Anything.” His voice was a little rough, and Ray bit down hard to keep the moan from escaping his throat.

“Why did you come here tonight? You knew I had a date. So why are you here exactly, Fraser?” The words were coming a little easier now.

Fraser looked quickly down, not saying anything at all, but keeping his hand tight on Ray’s.

“Holy shit,” Ray said, “you were checking up on me, weren’t you?”

Fraser looked up, his eyes a little wild, and started, “I don’t know what you’re talking – “

“You know exactly what I mean. You know I had a date, and you came here to see if I went home with her or not. Right?” Ray grinned at Fraser now, all the pieces falling into place inside his cloudy head.

“Ray,” Fraser whispered, and Ray took that as his cue. Brave from the scotch, he swung his right leg over Fraser’s, and straddled Fraser’s lap. Fraser looked terrified, but his hands came up to rest on Ray’s hips. Ray shimmied until his groin was right up against Fraser’s, feeling his hard cock against his own through their jeans. Fraser let out a quiet moan, and Ray ground against him.

“Ray, you’re drunk,” Fraser said, “and we shouldn’t – you shouldn’t –“ He was still holding onto Ray, and Ray could feel Fraser’s hips moving under him, just a little.

Ray stayed quiet and moved against Fraser slowly, feeling how turned on Fraser was through the layers of clothing. “I’m good, Fraser. I know what I want. I know what _you_ want,” he said.

“But, Ray, you’re –“ Fraser looked torn, his eyes searching Ray’s, his mouth saying one thing, but his body saying that he wanted this just as much as Ray did.

“Shh,” Ray whispered, leaning in closer. He could feel the tension in Fraser’s body working its way out, and see and feel Fraser relax into the couch. Okay.

“You were checking up on me,” he whispered, moving his mouth close to Fraser’s ear.

Fraser sighed deeply, and whispered back, “Yes.”

“It killed you to think of me with her, didn’t it?” Ray moved again, feeling Fraser’s heat on his cock.

No hesitation now. “Yes.”

“Today, at the Consulate, you wanted to do more than just touch my back, didn’t you?” Ray moved his mouth down to lick along the edge of Fraser’s ear and felt Fraser’s hands grip his hips hard.

“Yes,” Fraser growled out, moving one hand from Ray’s hip to his face to pull him to his lips. Fraser’s mouth tasted even better than it looked, his full lips moving on Ray’s, his tongue pushing past Ray’s lips and licking the scotch right out of his mouth. _Jesus_. He ran his tongue along Fraser’s and could feel Fraser moan into him. The kiss was slick and hot and everything he needed in the whole entire world.

Ray pulled away from Fraser, gasping. Fraser’s hands were back on his hips, and he moved his hands down to grasp Fraser’s wrists, yanking them up next to his head, pinning him down on the couch.

“I dropped her off,” he said between swipes of his tongue across Fraser’s neck. Fraser somehow tasted like snow, even though it was September in dirty, smelly Chicago.

“What?” Fraser said, panting now, pushing against Ray’s hands holding him down, but not trying to get away.

“Sarah. My date. I dropped her off at home after dinner. That’s it,” he said into Fraser’s neck.

“Understood, Ray,” Fraser said. Ray looked up at him, and saw everything there in Fraser’s face that scared the shit out of him and made him feel, for the first time since Stella left that day, that he was _alive_.

He kept Fraser’s left hand pinned to the couch, and reached down between them, flicking open the button on Fraser’s jeans and yanking down his zipper. He reached inside of Fraser’s boxers to pull out his cock, which was hard and leaking. Fraser was moaning these unbelievably sexy little moans and pushing hard against Ray’s hand where it gripped his wrist. Ray moved his hand over to his own belt and fumbled with the buckle, suddenly very sorry that he’d had a half a bottle of scotch, because he wanted to have some fucking finesse in this moment.

He finally got the belt unbuckled and then went to work on his own button and zipper. Finally, fucking _finally_, he got his pants open and got his own cock out. He pushed his cock up against Fraser’s, feeling the hot, smooth slide of their skin together. Fraser grunted, and Ray moved his hand back up so that he had Fraser against the couch with both hands again. He moved slowly, getting a rhythm going now, feeling the sparks behind his eyes, a little blurry still but there.

“God, Ray, what do you want?” Fraser said softly. Ray was moving steady still, pushing firmly against Fraser’s wrists with every thrust.

“You,” he said, leaning his forehead against Fraser’s, “everything.”

Fraser tilted his hips up, as much as he could under the weight of Ray’s body, and Ray cried out. He was so close now, Fraser hard and hot against him, the slide of their cocks together driving him out of his mind. Fraser was right there with him, straining underneath him, a steady, soft moan coming out of his mouth.

Fraser’s body went tense underneath his, his wrists tight under his hands. Fraser groaned and Ray felt his come spurting on Ray’s belly and cock. Fraser went still, and Ray moved through the wetness until he, too, was coming all over them, between them.

They both lay there for a moment, panting, stuck together with their come. Ray gently released Fraser’s wrists, and Fraser put his hands on Ray’s cheeks. He could feel the sharpness coming back, Fraser focusing underneath him, and hoped that this would still seem like a good idea later. Right now, though, right now Ray felt like this was the only place he wanted to be.

Ray looked at Fraser, feeling his hot palms on his face, and smiled. Fraser smiled back, a real, full smile, his teeth showing. Ray reached his hand up to smooth Fraser’s hair back from his forehead, the soft, thick hair tangling in his fingers.

“Stay,” he said softly, his fingers moving gently on Fraser’s head. Fraser was silent, his breath even and slow.

“Stay,” he repeated, a little louder, making sure Fraser heard him this time.

Fraser looked at him, blue eyes shining, and said, “Yes,” bringing his arms down around Ray’s shoulders and neck and pulling him close. Ray closed his eyes and buried his face in Fraser’s neck, breathing him in, breathing everything in.


End file.
